


Here to Stay

by non_tiembo_mala



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, PTSD and anxiety, Panic Attacks, Porn With Very Little Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 04:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/pseuds/non_tiembo_mala
Summary: Winter might be beautiful except for how Steve looks into the wind-swept snow and sees his best friend falling.He's not the only one.





	Here to Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jameee25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jameee25/gifts).



> Okay, this is completely unbetad and it might feel like two disjointed parts (???) because I wrote it in two sittings. I never thought I would finish it but here it is. Just a little Steve/Bucky one shot because they're always on my mind, and because IT'S MY DARLING TAL'S BIRTHDAY!
> 
> Babe, happy fuckin' birthday. I know we'll celebrate soon, but I'm glad I managed this for you, too. You give all my Steve/Bucky life, and I'm so grateful for you, every damn day. Til the end of the line <3
> 
> Title from Nat King Cole's _Our Love is Here to Stay_ (because I adore two (2) old men)
> 
> Enjoy <3

Steve has never been overly fond of the snow. 

Back in the day it was always a hassle, and it got so filthy so fast in the streets of the city that the beauty of it was lost on him pretty quickly. Not to mention with his asthma he spent most winters struggling through sickness – it doesn't exactly make for many positive associations. 

It was snowing the day he lost Bucky. What may have been beautiful vista of striking mountains blanketed with white became nothing more than the backdrop for his most dreaded recurring nightmare, watching as Bucky disappeared into the sea of snow below them, lost – he thought –  
forever. 

It always takes him back there, even now that Hydra has fallen and Bucky is waiting for him in their apartment at the Avengers compound. 

Steve is a little uneasy watching it come down around him as he drives the country roads that lead him home, stomach a little tight and his knuckles paling where they grip the wheel. A distant echo of Bucky's crying out rides the howling wind outside and Steve gives his head a little shake, refuses to listen, not when he can choose to think instead about the much more recent, much more real sounds Bucky makes against his mouth, low and hungry like the kisses they shared this morning before Steve had to run out. He's almost there, after all, and he's going to get lost in more of those kisses as soon as he steps through the door, going to drown that horrible memory in the very real, vital feeling of Bucky's body against his. 

He shifts in his seat and sighs, counts the seconds until he throws the car into park inside the garage and he can walk– no, _run_ his way to Bucky's arms.

\---

Steve really does run to their door. He doesn't sprint or anything but there is an undercurrent of urgency in his blood that carries him there in a hurry. Stupid snow.

He's closing the door behind him and taking his coat off in the next blink, kicking off his wet boots to leave on the mat even as his eyes search for Bucky. Their living room is empty, washed in a cool grey light, big window half covered with snow plastered to the outside of the glass. Bucky isn't on the couch in front of the TV, okay, but he's not in the kitchen either, though there's a full pot of coffee sitting on the burner, shut off and probably cold as though it was made and then forgotten. That's… weird. 

Steve's own urgency kicks up a notch and that uneasy feeling squeezes at his stomach. 

“Bucky?” He calls out, and he tries not to sound as randomly worried as he feels. “Babe, I'm back.”

He makes his way toward their room, noting the empty washroom on the way, leaving one last place Bucky could be. He clenches his fists a little when he rounds the corner and his whole body jolts, proper panic setting in like lightning. 

Bucky is sitting on the edge of their bed, head in his hands, his long hair hiding his face. He’s rocking a little, just enough that Steve can see, and his back is jumping with the effort of his short, laboured breaths. 

Steve hasn’t seen him like this in– well, a long time. Long enough he’d thought maybe he wouldn’t see it again. 

“Bucky, hey,” Steve’s heart is in his throat, small and tight with worry. He rushes into their room and drops to knees at Bucky’s feet, easing gentle, tentative hands to Bucky’s thighs. 

“Baby, look at me, please,” Steve begs, unashamed for the way his voice breaks with fear. 

Bucky looks up at him then, pained, lines drawn in his brow and at his eyes where he squints, glistening in the corners.

For a brief moment there’s nothing but the connection in their gaze and then Bucky is gasping for breath again, shaking and shuddering as he withdraws into himself again, eyes squeezed shut. 

“St-t-t-eve,” he stammers out brokenly, his flesh hand reaching for him blindly, digging into Steve’s shoulder hard once it finds it. Steve can feel the tremor in Bucky’s body spread to his like an echo through that touch. 

“Buck, baby, shh,” Steve murmurs, soft and reassuring as he can manage while his own heart is racing, his mind whirling around a thousand thoughts at once – _how long why when what triggered this I was gone goddammit_.

Steve straightens up where he kneels and shuffles forward, forcing open Bucky’s legs to bracket his waist as he moves in, drawing Bucky close. Bucky resists only so much as it seems to make him physically open up where he was curled in on himself before, but now he hides against Steve, his wet face buried in Steve’s neck and both arms under Steve’s and wrapped fiercely around him, as though he believes if he holds on tightly enough he might be able to ride out whatever’s happening. Maybe that’s actually true. 

Steve knows there’s not much he can say. There’s no point pushing or asking questions right now, he just has to bring Bucky back from whatever edge he’s standing on. 

“I’m here, Bucky,” Steve says again, just to give him something to focus on. “I’m here, I’ve got you. You’re okay, I promise. You’re just fine, Buck.”

Steve smooths back Bucky’s hair just to hold it at the nape of his neck with one hand, then tucks his own face in alongside Bucky’s, nuzzling in and breathing in deeply the vaguely salty scent of his tears on top of everything else that makes up his best friend. 

Steve lets his own eyes close and simply hangs on, breathing deliberate and steady for Bucky to sync with when he can. He’s not sure how long they’re like that, his knees on the floor and Bucky clinging to him as though his very life depends on it, but eventually the grip of his metal arm is less crushing, and Bucky’s breathing starts to match his own. Bucky shows no signs of moving despite his improvements, and Steve can still sense his trepidation. 

“Bucky,” he starts, barely above a whisper. “You think– could ya lay down with me?”

Bucks nods against Steve’s neck but doesn’t pull back yet. He says something and it’s mumbled so that the only thing Steve makes out is–

“Curtains?” Steve echoes, confused. 

“Close ‘em, would ya? Please,” Buck says, clear enough now for Steve to hear. 

Steve blinks just long enough to process the request and then slips out of Bucky’s slackened grasp to do as he was asked, casting their room into shadow. 

Bucky sighs, shaky but laced with relief that Steve feels in the loosening of the vice around his heart, and Bucky lets Steve pull him back onto the bed. Steve sits up against their pillows and the headboard, while Bucky slots himself between Steve’s legs and lays back against him, tension bleeding out of him with every passing second. 

Steve lets his hands roam over Bucky’s chest and sides. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Bucky laughs, a short snort followed by something a little wilder – _embarrassed_. “Everything’s fine, I’ve been fine, I didn’t even think– the fucking snow, Stevie. Came outta’ fucking nowhere.”

Bucky’s hands slide over top of Steve’s and they still, one over Bucky’s heart and the other on his stomach, their fingers laced together. 

“One minute, I’m putting coffee in the machine, the next I’m listening to it drip, waiting to pour myself a cup and just staring out the window in the living room like any ol’ day, watching it come down out there and– fuck, I dunno, just, didn’t feel right all of a sudden. Came in here to sit down and there’s snow piled in the corners of the window and it’s white out and then I’m laying at the bottom of a goddamn ravine with no arm a broken body and–”

Steve can feel against his palm when Bucky’s heart rate picks up, the rise and fall of his chest getting choppy again as keeps talking, and he doesn’t need to hear the rest.

“Bucky, Buck, babe, hey, slow down, would ya? Shh, it’s alright,” Steve hugs him a little more tightly and Bucky forces a breath out through his nose then breathes in more controlled, forces his heart rate back down with practiced technique, as though he’s prone behind his rifle getting ready to take a shot instead of cradled against Steve’s body trying to beat down another panic attack. 

“God, this is fuckin’ stupid,” Bucky grumbles under his breath, his hands gripping Steve’s tightly even as his body has relaxes again.

“Buck, c’mon,” Steve nuzzles against his ear. “It ain’t your fault. Is what it is. No shame in ‘at.”

Bucky huffs, though he tilts his head to give Steve better access, and Steve takes it, kissing at the side of his face, letting his lips linger on Bucky’s skin.

“Still stupid,” he repeats. “All the shit I’ve been through and it’s a fuckin’ blizzard that does me in, huh? What a joke.”

Steve doesn’t think it’s funny. He thinks about his own discomfort in the car on the way home, the way he looks into the white surroundings and sees Bucky fall. 

“It gets me, too, ya know,” Steve offers, quiet and serious.

Bucky shifts then, twists in Steve’s arms so they’re chest-to-chest and Bucky’s looking right at him, brows knit together. 

“Stevie?” 

It’s a gentle question like he knows Steve’s got more to say about it, which, he does, but leave it to Bucky to know it, too. Steve sighs, resigned, and slides his hands up Bucky’s arms, just holds onto him. 

It’s a long moment while Steve figures out what he wants to say, and Bucky doesn’t rush him, just watches, hands moving on him gently. He looks the most relaxed he has yet, all his attention on Steve like this now, and isn’t that just the thing. 

“I was asleep a long time, ya know? There was just… nothing. Don’t remember a damn thing special between going down and waking up. Then I was awake and it was years later except, for me… it was yesterday. I’ve replayed every moment on that train a thousand times in my mind, watched you fall over and over and over again. It always ends up the same – I woulda survived. I shoulda gone after you. I coulda pulled you out, at least, saved you from them– or–”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky cuts him off, shifting to pull himself up, tucking a knee on either side of Steve’s hips so he’s seated right in his lap. He tilts Steve’s face up with his right hand, the left holding his side, cool metal fingers tucked under Steve’s arm. “You can’t– you can’t do that. Can’t think like that. You don’t know. You _didn’t_ know, and you had a mission. Would we even be here right now to have this conversation if you hadn’t stopped Schmidt? C’mon.”

Steve knows, in his heart of hearts, that Bucky is right. It’s what kept him clinging to the train when every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to follow Bucky into the frozen valley below. But it doesn’t change the guilt, or the wanting, or the way it eats him up inside despite his best efforts to ignore it, especially now, since he has Bucky back. That certainly helps. 

“Stevie,” Bucky tries again, gentler, leaning in to nudge his nose against Steve’s, close enough Steve can taste his breath. Instinctively he angles to bring them closer, to better breathe him in.

“Yeah, I know,” he relents, barely above a whisper. “That _feeling_ , when you fell, sometimes I think about it and it– it’s right there, ya know? Worst I ever felt.”

Steve is barely speaking now, it hurts just thinking about it to say it, but Bucky’s lips are brushing his own, teasing, distracting, and this was for him, Steve thought, and now it’s all turned around but Bucky’s sinking his weight down in Steve’s lap, rocking a little as he tempts Steve into the kiss. 

“But holding you now, Buck–” Steve slides a hand into Bucky’s hair, tugs just enough to get him to still, look him in the eye. “It’s the absolute _best_.”

Bucky grins, eyes bright, and everything Steve saw when he came home is gone. Bucky is still smiling when he kisses Steve then, and there’s nothing else in the world. Not the compound, not the blizzard outside or Hydra or anything. Steve’s whole world, whole heart, is in his arms, and it’s the only thing that matters. 

Steve deepens the kiss, looking for Bucky even though he’s got him, because he can never have enough. His hand tightens in Bucky’s hair and his other arm wraps around his waist, pulling Bucky in closer even as Bucky starts to find a rhythm as he moves, rubbing against Steve’s dick where it’s pushing against the zipper on his jeans, uncomfortably tight and just enough to tease.

“God, _Bucky_ –” Steve gasps as a wave of pleasure washes over him, blood lit up and pumping hard through his veins. He shifts, wiggling down the bed a bit to try and get a better angle, and Bucky is chuckling, chasing his mouth with a kiss, and then another, quick between his laughter. 

“Yeah, baby doll, I hear ya,” he agrees. “There, go on, lay down now.”

Bucky lifts up off his lap and shimmies back a bit on his knees to give Steve the room. Steve moves fast, loathe for any room between them, heart pounding in his chest and a fierce need making him reach for Bucky as soon as he’s settled, hands on his hips urging him back down. It’s clear Bucky understands Steve’s urgency, but he’s still grinning, a little smug no matter how sympathetic. He sits his ass down and starts to move again under a push-pull at Steve’s hand, dragging his body over Steve’s denim-clad, aching hard length. 

Steve shudders and sighs, shaky and high at the first back and forth, gripping hard onto to Bucky’s sides.

“Fuck,” he grunts, head going back into the pillow. “Buck– feel so good.”

Bucky hums, pleased, and doesn’t let up. There’s the familiar, barely there whirr of the metal parts in Bucky’s arm moving and Steve makes himself look, watching as Bucky braces himself with his left hand on the bed, then uses the other to push down his sweatpants and underwear, just enough to take himself out. He’s hard and flushed at the tip, slick with precome, and Steve’s mouth waters at the sight. As he grinds along Steve’s dick he fucks into his own fist, and they both moan. Steve slides his hands down, pulling Bucky’s sweats with them to keep them at his thighs, elastic waist pulled tight as Steve digs his fingers into the thick muscles underneath.

Bucky drops his head back as he rides Steve now, purpose clear in the focus on his face. They’re done laughing and teasing for the moment, both of them chasing release, and Bucky is doing most of the work. Steve pushes his hips up to meet him, to get the most friction he can, and it’s so damn good, even fully dressed, hard line of his zipper digging in along the length of him. It hurts but _just_ enough, and watching Bucky jerk himself off– god, it’s beautiful. His dick, the muscles in his arm as they flex, the lines of his hips that Steve keeps exposed as he holds down Bucky’s sweats– 

“ _Bucky!_ ” It happens just like that, like running hard towards a trip wire, and Steve groans out Bucky’s name when he comes, pulsing against the confines of his jeans, warm and wet inside his briefs and onto his skin. 

“Yeah, Stevie, that’s it, fuck–” Bucky eggs him on, breathy, and increases the pace of his hand. “God, look so good when you come, baby. I’m so close–”

Steve is heavy as it subsides, and his limbs move like molasses but Bucky’s slowed down his hips, just barely sitting on him now, stripping his cock furiously as he barrels towards that same edge, so Steve does what he can to help. He moves one sex-dumb hand to dig out the hem of his t-shirt from under Bucky’s thigh, then drags it up, bunching it at his pits and exposing his chest. 

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky whines brokenly and Steve is the one grinning now, feeling smug in the afterglow as he arches his back.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs. “Come all over me. All over these titties you love so much.”

Steve hasn’t even finished talking when the first splash hits him right on his sternum. Bucky is groaning, long and low and lighting that fire in Steve’s blood again, metal hand clutching the blanket so hard Steve’ll be surprised there aren’t holes after. He paints Steve’s chest, ribbons across his nipples and upper stomach, and Steve’s own dick twitches in an answer to each one. 

“ _Fuck,_ Steve,” Bucky laughs as he milks the last few drops onto his hand and eases up his grip. “Goddamn.”

“Yeah?” Steve can’t help but ask, just to hear it, loves to hear Bucky say it. 

“Yeah, baby, look at ya, so fuckin’ pretty, and then those tits of yours, Jesus–” Bucky leans forward, both hands on Steve’s chest, cupping them in his palms with no regard for the mess, and kisses him.

It a flurry of urgency that quickly melts away into something gentle and deep, easy as he rubs his thumbs over Steve’s nipples, smearing their come around and making Steve’s breath hitch. 

“Buck,” Steve tries to laugh but it’s unconvincing, husky and shaky with the insatiable, unstoppable want that Bucky stirs in him, not that either of them really mind. He grins against Steve’s mouth and sits back up, stilling his hands even if he doesn’t take them away. 

“Sorry, baby,” he says, even though they both know he doesn’t mean it. Which is okay, because Steve isn’t sorry either. Bucky looks at his hands and the mess on Steve’s skin then back at Steve. “Shower?”

“I mean, what other option do we have?” Steve tries at mock innocence, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him earlier that whatever mess they made would land them in their shower to eat up all of Tony’s hot water. Tony insists it’s “limitless” but Steve figures they just have to try harder. He’s up for the challenge.

Bucky snorts and lifts off him, stepping off the bed and reaching for Steve’s hand. “Better c’mon then, Cap.”

Steve rolls off the bed and follows behind him, leaving the snow to be all but forgotten outside.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are love <3


End file.
